


Lallybroch Library Prompt Exchange April 2018

by DaughterofPrussia



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, The Lallybroch Library Promt Exchange, Without worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 19:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14479137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaughterofPrussia/pseuds/DaughterofPrussia
Summary: The chapters of this work are my response to the Lallybroch Library Prompt Exchange Challenge - PROMPT #16: “Good morning. I see the assassins have failed.” (submitted by @the-fear-you-wont-fall). The chapters, which are posted on tumblr in smaller installments will later become part of the “Without worry” series (in revised and supplemented form).





	1. Alea iacta est (1)

(”The Vennel Steps” by Jennifer Romero via [WikiMediaCommons](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fupload.wikimedia.org%2Fwikipedia%2Fcommons%2Fa%2Faf%2FThe_Vennel_Steps_-_geograph.org.uk_-_128233.jpg&t=MTdjNjY0OTdhYWIzMzU2NmE1YzllOTExMzFlNWY2NDIyM2M1YzVkYyxQT3lwU3dlNA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173396259285%2Fpec-1-alea-iacta-est-1&m=1) )  


 

**Edinburgh  
Friday, August 22, 1749, 8 - 9 am**

         The morning hours of the day immersed the castle, which towered majestically above the city, in a golden light. Only the English flag, which blew over the castle, disturbed the picture. Anyone who used the Vennel to get down to the Grassmarket or to move away from it understood why the upper part of the street was such a popular place for painters. So no one was getting suspicious, when at 8 am a middle-aged man, loaded with the usual tools of a painter, set up his easel there and started working. The man seemed to be one of those traveling painters who were seen from time to time in the city. He was only five feet tall, had a stout stature and gray spots were already showing in his otherwise raven black hair and beard. His sun-browned face indicated that he was often and for a long time in the fresh air, which seemed natural to a painter. If he had been asked for his papers, the artist would have presented documents in the Italian language identifying him as Guglielmo Francesco Tiglio, born December 26, 1709, in Catania / Sicily.

         About an hour after Tiglio had begun his work, a man climbed up the Vennel, whose clothing indicated a significant fortune. Maybe he was a rich merchant or an official in the service of the English? He stopped at the painter’s easel, greeted the man, and began a conversation in which he pointed several times to the artist’s canvas and to the distant castle. For anyone passing by the two men, it was obvious that an artist was talking to a citizen interested in art. After ten minutes, the men said goodbye with a handshake and the painter continued his work. But only half an hour later he had to interrupt his work again, as another person addressed him. This time, it was a young man who went down the Vennel in the direction of the Grassmarket, but then stopped in surprise at the painter’s easel. For the casual observer, it might have seemed that a young employee or student was interested in the Italian’s work. Again a conversation began, which was about the painting that was just emerging. The young man showed serious interest and listened attentively to the artist’s comments. When the two men said goodbye, they did it with a handshake. While the young man hurried down the Vennel and soon had disappeared from the painter’s eyes, he worked on his picture for a few more minutes. Then he cleaned his brushes and slowly packed up his work materials. His job was done.

          The young man, who a few minutes ago was engaged in an intense conversation with an Italian painter, now hurried up a flight of stairs in a house near the Grassmarket. He stopped at a door on the second floor. A hand-written paper sign identified a “Mr. B. Smith” as the resident. The young man took a bunch of keys out of his trouser pocket and opened the door. Then Benjamin Smith immediately bolted the door of his small apartment from the inside. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out a large Italian coin. Then he threw the jacket over a chair and sat down at his desk, which stood in front of one of the two windows that revealed the view to the street. He put the coin on the desk in front of him and paused for a moment. When his breath had calmed down he took the coin between thumb and forefinger of both hands and turned it in the opposite directions. After a few moments, the invisible screw cap opened and out of the “coin” a small square piece of paper fell out. There were only a few words to read in a very small font:

                                                          **Alea iacta est [1] - All as planned**

         Smith took a deep breath. The news came as no surprise to him. He had expected it. And yet these words changed his entire life in just the twinkling of an eye. He had barely 12 hours, then he would leave Scotland and probably it would be a goodbye forever. He looked around the room. There was not much left to pack. In a certain foreboding he had already packed his manageable belongings in four large leather bags the night before. Now he took a sheet of paper from the desk and with his penknife he cut off a square corner of the same size as the one he had taken out of the coin. With his pen he wrote only a single word on it: 

**Today!**


	2. Alea iacta est (2)

****

(”Herbst” by  [katjasv](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fherbst-weg-natur-b%25C3%25A4ume-laub-727982%2F&t=ZWQ1YjY2MTZlOWQxODI5Yjg5MjVhN2MxZGNkMDdjM2E2ZjQ2OTNmOSx2YUNjeUVwYw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173412478850%2Fpec-2-alea-iacta-est-2&m=1) )

 

**The evening before**

**Quellheim  
Thursday, August 21, 1749  
** 

         The harvest season was almost over and in less than a month it would be autumn. Although the summer came to an end, the evenings were pleasantly lukewarm and a welcome invitation to go for a walk. For this reason, the Fraser family had dinner earlier that day. When Claire asked Fergus if he wanted to accompany her and Jamie for a walk, he just rolled his eyes. Afterwards, he had taken the book with which he spent most of his free time for several days and had disappeared into the ‘gute Stube’ [1].

         In the past few months he had learned to read and speak the language of his new homeland better and with every little bit of progress his hunger for books had grown. In the house they had been assigned after their arrival in the spring of this year, they had also found a number of books. A part of it was well kept in a cabinet in the 'gute Stube’. An entire shelf of books stood in a room that had obviously belonged to a boy who must have been a bit older than Fergus. And then there were more books in some wooden boxes that they had discovered in the attic. Over time Fergus had become a real bookworm and one could have the impression that he had the ambition to read through all the books that were accessible to him. Among the books that they had gradually discovered were books on agriculture and animal breeding, but also novels. However, a large part of the books dealt with geography and history. These books attracted Fergus’s particular interest.   
         When Claire saw him go, she smiled. Then she shook her head and thought, “Fergus Claudel _Fraser_!”

         Jamie had looked after the animals while Claire did the dishes. Then they had set off. They had chosen the long route, had gone along the watermill and Thormann’s house. The old couple, who had become close friends in recent months, sat as usual on a bench in front of the house and enjoyed the rays of the evening sun. They joined them briefly, talked about the things of the day and then continued their walk. After they passed the small road past the cobbler’s and the blacksmith’s houses, they reached the road that ran along the estate of the Baron to whose jurisdiction this and several other villages belonged. They crossed the great bridge, under which the two brooks that surrounded the village joined into one new river. Then they turned to the forest. At the edge of the forest, whose dark green spruce trees stood out from the pastures and fruit trees of the area, a path led to a small valley with a few fields. One of these fields was theirs. Jamie had suggested going there that evening because he wanted to check the fences. Just as they entered, they heard a deep, polyphonic humming that grew more and more and ended in a four-voice evening song: 

Kein schöner Land in dieser Zeit,  
als hier das unsre weit und breit,  
wo wir uns finden  
wohl unter Linden  
zur Abendzeit, Abendzeit. 

Da haben wir so manche Stund’  
gesessen wohl in froher Rund’  
und taten singen;  
die Lieder klingen  
im Eichengrund.

Daß wir uns hier in diesem Tal  
noch treffen so viel hundertmal,  
Gott mag es schenken,  
Gott mag es lenken,  
er hat die Gnad’.

Nun, Brüder, eine gute Nacht,  
der Herr im hohen Himmel wacht!  
In seiner Güten  
uns zu behüten  
ist er bedacht. [2]  
  


         They stopped and listened to the singing. Jamie put his arm around Claire’s waist and pulled her closer. Then he saw the tears in her eyes. He did not have to ask her. He knew what she was thinking. They had found a new home. They had found peace and their little family was finally safe. Yet all that could not replace the homeland and the family they missed. He bedded her head against his chest and kissed her forehead gently. When the song had died away, the inspection of the fence was forgotten. Silently, they continued on their way home.

* * *

 

**Edinburgh Castle  
Thursday, August 21, 1749  
  
**

         The Colonel’s office was small and dark. When he heard a knock on his door, he looked up, put down his quill and shouted: 

         "Come in!“ 

         The door opened and a young officer entered. He took his position in front of the Colonel’s desk. The Colonel got up, went around the desk and looked the young man straight into the eyes. 

         "Good evening!" 

         "Good evening Sir!" 

         "I have good news for you! We finally figured out where this Scottish bastard is hiding." 

         The Colonel spoke these words calmly, but with a smug undertone. Then he circled the officer. The young man felt as if a snake was wrapping his body in order to cut off his air. 

         ” _Fraser?_ _Red Jamie_ ….“ he asked nearly not audible. 

         "Yes, Fraser, the traitor," the Colonel answered.

         A moment of silence passed. When the Colonel returned to the desk, he continued: 

         "He left the country, but he should have known better. The strong arm of the British army will reach him everywhere on the face of the earth. Him, his white witch, and this little French thief whom he has adopted as his child, all members of his little degenerate _family_!" 

         Another moment of silence passed. Then the Colonel hit the table with his fist and shouted: 

         "We will seize him, him and all his brood, and we will make an example of him. No one escapes English law! Even the borders of another kingdom will not save them! Did you understand?" 

         "Yes Sir!" 

         "I spoke to the Duke yesterday. It has been decided that we will assign this mission to _you_." 

         The young officer’s eyes widened with astonishment and fear. 

         ” _You_ were responsible for ensuring that this traitor did his years of forced labor in Helwater, _you_ were responsible for his escape and _you_ are responsible for getting him back. Do you understand that?“ 

         "Yes Sir!" 

         "You will leave Edinburgh in ten days with three other soldiers, disguised as civilians. We will give you exact plans of where you will find the traitor. Together you will capture him, his wife and his little French rat. You will get exact orders, how to capture and transport them. You will bring them to London, where they will stand before a judge and then we will hang them all in the court of the Tower. Did you understand?" 

         "Yes Sir!" 

         "You have one month. You either bring him to us alive or you bring us his head. _And woe to you, if things go wrong!_ You have already offended the Crown and the Duke with your miserable _service_. This is your last chance. No word to anybody! Go now, pack your things and wait for your orders!" 

         "Yes Sir!" 

         When the door closed behind the young officer, the Colonel sat down again. He despised these young men, who could buy their officer’s patent so easily because their rich families had enough money. He had not been given anything; he had worked long and hard for it. As he poured wine from a glass carafe into a goblet, he wondered what he wanted more: Fraser’s capture or the failure of the young officer. He did not like traitors, but he liked greasy boys from wealthy families even less. After all, Fraser was a man of courage. He raised the goblet to an imaginary person and said grinning: 

        _"To you Mr. Fraser!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The former German phrase for “living room”.  
> [2] This is a very famous old German Evening Song. It dates back to Anton Wilhelm von Zuccalmaglio and was first published in 1840. That Claire and Jamie heard it in 1749 is pure fiction, but it reflects the atmosphere of the situation in which I see Claire and Jamie at this moment very well. The English translation of the song can be found here: https://lyricstranslate.com/de/kein-sch%C3%B6ner-land-no-fairer-land.html Here you can listen to it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_yuUOTZUDg


	3. Alea iacta est (3)

(”Sonnenuntergang” by [851878](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fsonnenuntergang-boot-meer-schiff-675847%2F&t=YmEwZjVhNjI0ODVmMTk5OGExMjI4NTFmM2Q5MzM4NzE1NWZjOGE2Mix5SnoxbmRaNw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173470627970%2Fpec-3-alea-iacta-est-3&m=1))

 

 

 **Edinburgh**  
**Friday, August 22, 1749, 11 am**

         It was eleven o'clock in the morning when Benjamin Smith left the house. He would only visit it once more in the afternoon to pick up his things. After removing the message from the coin and fitting it with a new one, he had visited his landlady. Mrs. McDonald was surprised to see him. He told her that he needed to travel to Manchester because a distant relative was ill and urgently needed his help. Before she could ask for further details, he thanked her for the friendly welcome and the wonderful service he had received from her. He then handed her a small black leather bag with a number of silver coins, and the joy this little gift gave her, made her forget all further questions.

         Now he was on his way back to the Grassmarket. Entering the square, he turned left to have lunch in one of the pubs. On his way he passed a beggar who held out an old tattered hat, of which one could only guess that he had once been of green color.

         "Please Sir! A gift of charity!“ 

         Smith stopped in front of the man and smiled at him. Then he reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulled out a large Italian coin and put it in the beggar’s hat. 

         "Thank you Sir! May God bless your kind heart!" 

         Smith moved on and entered a pub shortly thereafter. The beggar sat in his place for a moment longer. Then he got up and walked away. Slowly, but then, when he turned into a side street, much faster.

         Meanwhile Benjamin Smith had found a free table and ordered lunch and a jug of beer. While waiting for what he had ordered, he realized painfully that this lunch might be the last truly Scottish meal he would enjoy for a long time. Twice he had visited his father’s homeland and the meals they had served him there had not been bad. Nevertheless, he was aware that it would take time to get used to the food and customs there.   
**  
**

* * *

  
**Quellheim**  
**Friday, August 22, 1749, noon  
  
**

         Claire was about to call her men for lunch when she heard the bell from the gate. She hurried to the window that opened onto the yard and saw Jamie open the gate. In came two men with wheelbarrows, on which there were several cages with poultry. They were servants of that poultry farmer who had his farm near the edge of the forest. Although Jamie could not work on the fields which had been assigned to them until the beginning of April, the harvest was good for their circumstances. They had sold part of their grain and vegetables and decided to buy ten more chickens and four geese. Two days ago, Jamie had been at Mr. Pöhl’s poultry farm, picking the chickens and the geese and paying for the animals. Claire saw him and the men carry the cages with the geese into the garden. There he and Fergus had built a small enclosure in which the geese could live until the end of autumn. Shortly thereafter, the men came back into the yard and now the chickens were released from their cages and joined the chickens which were already running around in the yard. In the evening, it would be Fergus’ job to bring them all into the chicken coop that he and Jamie had also upgraded in the past few days.  
         When she saw the men with the wheelbarrows leave, she opened the front door. A bright smile became visible on Jamie’s face.

         "See Sassenach, our new friends!”  
  
         Claire knew how much that first purchase meant to him, but she also did not want the lunch to get cold.  
  
         "I will inspect them all afterwards, but now we have to eat, otherwise our trout will be cold.“  
  
         "All right, I call Fergus and then wait behind the house.”  
  
         Behind the house there was - between the house and the actual garden - a kind of terrace made of wooden planks. Jamie and Fergus had repaired two wooden benches they had found in one of the stables. In the attic they had also found a larger table. After giving this table two new table legs, it and the benches found their place on the terrace. Claire had provided the benches with two tick woolen blankets and numerous pillows. If the weather allowed, they enjoyed their meals together at this place. They enjoyed the fresh air, the gentle sound of the brook that was flowing around their property and - in the warmer days of the summer - the shade that an old big apple tree provided for them. Claire handed the food and drinks through one of the kitchen windows leading out to the garden and the men brought it all to the table. Shortly after Claire arrived at the table, Fergus joined them. They had just finished their prayer of thanksgving and started eating when Fergus could not hold back a question that left him no peace.  
  
         "Milord, will we eat one of the geese for Christmas?“  
  
         "Fergus,” Claire said with a serious expression, “we’ll talk about what happens to the geese later, let’s just eat those wonderful trout." 

         "Yes Milady,” he answered meekly. 

         Claire glanced over at Jamie, who had grabbed his mug with beer and was drinking. Clearly he did that to hide a broad grin. 

         Then she looked back at Fergus, who was eager to eat his fried trout and the big slice of fresh bread Claire had put on his plate.

         "Have I already thanked both of you for catching these wonderful trouts?“ 

         She smiled and put one of her hands on each of the men’s shoulder that she could reach. 

         "They are a wonderful addition to our weekly menu." 

         "It’s our pleasure to provide for the food, Sassenach." 

         "I think so,” Claire answered and her face showed a bright grin. 

         Only with difficulty could she suppress a loud laugh, because Jamie’s seriously spoken words reminded her that he had come home a few days ago with completely wet clothes. He and Fergus wanted to catch some trout, but Jamie had slipped on a mossy stone and fallen into the water. The ‘accident’ had ended the fishing adventure early.

         When they had finished eating, Claire grabbed a small knife and began to quarter and to seed the three apples she had brought with her. First Fergus got his share, then Jamie and the third one was shers. Of course, Fergus was the first to finish his apple and looked questioningly at Jamie. Without waiting for the boy’s question, he said: 

         "Yes, you can go and read for half an hour. But first you bring the plates to the kitchen. And this time without any of the dishes being broken. All right?“ 

         "Yes Milord." 

         He took the dishes and wanted to go. 

         "Fergus?" 

         "Yes Milady?" 

         "Come here, just a moment." 

         He put the dishes back on the table and went to Claire, who pulled him close and kissed him on the forehead. 

         "Thank you Fergus for helping us so much." 

         The boy smiled and looked to Jamie, who smiled back to him. Then he took the dishes and was gone in a moment. Claire and Jamie listened intently. But this time, they were not startled by the sound of broken plates before they heard Fergus’s footsteps on the stairs. Claire let out an audible breath and Jamie grinned.

         "What are you planning for the afternoon?" 

         "Fergus and I will look after the rabbit slings. We will take the two big baskets with us. I hope we will find some alive. If so, we will put them in the cages that Fergus and I have built in the stable. It would be good if we could keep some of them during the winter. Even if we can afford a cask of herring now, it will be good to have access to fresh meat. We have enough hay. We will be able to feed them well." 

         Claire nodded. 

         "Have you already made a decision about the pigs?" 

         "Yes, since we do not have to buy a horse thanks to Mr. Thormann, we can buy a sow and a boar, just as we discussed. Tomorrow morning I’ll go to see Mr. Rein and pick the animals for us. The stable is ready. So we can have the animals brought here at any time. And who knows, next year we may already have our own piglets and be able to buy some sheep.”

         He leaned back comfortably and smiled. Claire leaned across the table, reaching for his hands and kissing them. 

         "Thank you. Thank you so much for working so hard for us.“ 

         "Claire, if it were not for you, I would still rot in an English prison or slowly perish in forced labor. All I do is not because I have to, but out of gratitude.”

         He had gotten up from his seat and sat down beside her on the bench. Then he put his arm around her shoulders. When she raised her head and looked at him, he kissed her - gently first, then more and more passionate. 

         "Ähm, sorry Milord, I did not want to ….“ 

         Fergus stood next to the bench, ready to go and inspect the rabbit slings. 

         "No, you didn’t want to interrupt us. I know lad. You just feared that we might be late for dinner, if we do not get to the rabbit slings soon. Go and get the two large baskets I’ve showed you. I meet you in the yard." 

          Fergus hurried off. 

         "Always when …." 

         Jamie rolled his eyes. 

         "There will be lots of time tonight, my love. I’ll make our boy a  a herbal tea that will make him sleep deeply” 

         "Sometimes. Sasenach, I do not know if I should fear or admire your knowledge." 

         He kissed her one last time and left her in the garden.

 

* * *

  
**Edinburgh  
** **Friday, August 22, 1749, noon - 8 pm  
  
**

         Benjamin Smith had finished his lunch. He paid and shortly thereafter stepped through the pub’s door onto the Grassmarket. He crossed the square in southerly direction. As he passed the table of a young woman selling flowers, he stopped. He bought a small bouquet of light-blue forget-me-nots and then continued on his way. Forty minutes later, he walked through the gate of a cemetery. With the confidence of a man who knew his surroundings, he moved along the main path of the cemetery to a smaller path that branched off to the right, walked along it, and turned to the right again. Shortly thereafter, he stopped in front of a grave. On the gray stone, only a few details were to be read:

                                                                          Catherine Smith  
  
                                                                   26.08.1694 - 19.12.1739  
  
  
         He laid the flowers down at the foot of the stone. Then he put his right hand on the stone and was silent for a while. He looked around and when he was sure that there was nobody near him, he knelt down and whispered:  
  
         "There is no other way. I have to go mum, but I’m not leaving you.”  
  
         With the sleeve of his frock-coat he wiped away the tears that were running down his face. Then he took a small transparent glass bottle from the pocket of his jacket, filled it with earth and closed it with the cork he had previously pulled out. He dropped the small bottle back into the pocket and once more wiped tears from his face. Then he got up slowly. Once more he lingered in silence for a few minutes before the gray stone that marked the final resting place of his beloved mother. Although she had been dead for ten years, and although he had almost grown up at the time of her death, the pain her loss had left in his heart had never vanished. And now he was destined to leave not only his home country, but his mother’s grave as well. He had to leave all behind. Without knowing if he would ever again enter Scottish ground. The sense of loss that seized his soul at that moment hurt him just as the death of his mother had done ten years ago. One last time he stroked the gray stone. Then he turned abruptly and left the cemetery with determined steps.

         Slowly Benjamin Smith had returned to the city and to his apartment. At four o'clock in the afternoon there was a knock on his door. He opened and let the two men in, who were to pick up his bags and take them to the ship, with which he would leave the country before the dark. He nodded silently to the two men and gave them both some silver coins. Then he closed the door behind them.  
  
         Two hours later he grabbed a black leather bag that was slightly smaller than the bags the men had picked up. For the last time he unlocked the door of the apartment which had been his home for six month. Then he stuck his key inside the door and closed it. As quietly as possible, he climbed down the stairs. He desperately wanted to avoid meeting Mrs. McDonald again. Shortly after, he stepped on the street. 

         Some minutes after seven o'clock in the evening he reached the landing stage of the ship on which he was already expected. A man greeted him and then escorted him over a hanging ladder to the ship. He was then led into the captain’s cabin and after a brief conversation with the captain, he was shown his cabin. The four leather backs were already there. He sat down on the edge of the bed set in the wall for a moment and pulled out a flask from the little bag he had carried with him. He took a long sip from it and then let out a slight sigh. Scottish whiskey. Even this pleasure he would have only very rarely in the future. He put the flask back in his bag. At that moment, he sensed that the ship was starting to move. He left his cabin and climbed up the stairs to the deck. On the horizon, the sunset had spread in a variety of shades from yellow to orange to red. He stood by the railing and saw Edinburgh slowly disappear. Would he ever see his hometown again? His whole life had changed completely in a single moment. It hurt. But he would not complain. He was not just doing his duty. His service and the success of his task would decide about life and death. The outcome of his mission could decide on war or peace. It was no longer just about the revenge of the brutal  Duke of Cumberland. It was about the future diplomatic relations between England and his Fatherland. But above all, it was about the lives of three people who had no idea what mischief threatened them.


	4. Carried on the Wings of an Eagle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth post for the Lallybroch Library Prompt Exchange Challenge PROMPT #16: “Good morning. I see the assassins have failed.” (submitted by @the-fear-you-wont-fall). The posts, which will last for the next days, will later become part of the “Without worry” series. @thelallybrochlibrary - This is a kind of longer "weekend chapter". Partially it was inspired by this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hn4BwPKVh4g

 

(”Sommerabend” by [PDPhotos](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fgarten-abend-sommerabend-atmosph%25C3%25A4re-3585%2F&t=NzY4Nzk2NmQ4ODQ3NDlkODcxYTI3ZGYzMjk0NTI0ZmNhNmY3M2RmMyxuSTJLT0xRSA%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173619009040%2Fpec-4-carried-on-the-wings-of-an-eagle&m=1)) 

 

 **Quellheim** **  
** **Monday, August 25, 1749, early evening**  
  
           It was a wonderful mild summer evening. They had dined in the garden. Now Fergus was sitting on one of the benches reading, while Claire stood at the entrance of her herb garden, surveying the rest of the garden from there. Between the part of the garden where she had grown vegetables and flowers and the geese enclosure stood seven trees of blue plums and two trees bearing yellow plums. Two more trees with round red plums joined the back garden wall. The fruits were nearly ripe and had to be harvested soon. There were too many fruits for three people to consume them.

           It had been the same in June, when the currants had ripened. Claire had discovered them shortly after she, Jamie and Fergus were brought here in February and had been given the farm. There were ten bushes that stood on a small piece of land that connected the garden with the meadow behind the stables. Seven of the bushes carried red currants. These bushes were of a smaller species. Behind them were two really large bushes of black currants. And hidden in the midst of all these bushes was an isolated smaller bush of white currants. Many of the red and white currants they had eaten fresh for dessert. A part of them Jamie had taken to the market. But the blackcurrants, which she knew were especially rich of vitamins and minerals, Claire had made into juice and preserved with alcohol. When Jamie saw what she was doing, he had jokingly asked her if she wanted to open a secret trade in liquors. As a result, she had taught him about the health benefits of the blackcurrant for half an hour ... He had rolled his eyes, thanked her, and assured her that he would not ask such a question again so quickly. She rolled her eyes, turned back to her work, and muttered something that sounded like ‘ignorant Scot’, but not without a little hidden smile. When they were finally able to enjoy the quietness of their bedchamber in the late evening that day, he had taken her hands and kissed them. Her fingers still smelled of the fruits.  
  
           "Have I ever told you how much I love your hands, Claire? They seem to bring healing and restoration to everything you touches here. With them you have made a home for Fergus and me out of this place. And out of the wilderness behind the house, you have created a garden that not only provides us with fruit and vegetables, but has become a small paradise in which we all can find peace. The work of your hands," he had whispered. Then he had kissed her hands again.

           "And that's just what happens outwardly. I wish you could see what effect it has to Fergus, every time you hug him, tenderly run your hands through his hair. You really became his mother. Not only here. Not only through the adoption. Do you remember when we were searching for him after the battle of Prestonpans and he confessed to you that he probably killed a soldier? I will never forget seeing you two when you found him. You pressed him to your chest as if you wanted to absorb all his pain, all his exhaustion, the whole nightmare of having seen the darkness of war. If there ever was a day, Claire, on which you became his mother, it was that day. You pressed him to you and every touch of your hands said: ‘I care for you with all my heart.’”

           Gently, he lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. Small rivulets of tears began to flow from them. She did not say anything. But in her mind she'd returned to the day they had feared they might have lost Fergus forever. When she finally found him, she did not know if her heart should burst with joy and relief, or if she should beat him for his carelessness. In the end, her heart had decided. But she knew that her heart had opened up for him much earlier and in a way that went far beyond the care that a person of mercy was able to give to an orphan. It was the night she'd found Fergus whimpering in his room. It was the night he told her about the terrible thing Black Jack Randall had done to him. It was the night he could not stop crying for blaming himself that Jamie had been arrested for challenging Randall to a duel and Claire had lost Faith. That night, she realized how much Fergus loved her and Jamie. _Really_ loved them. That night Claire remembered a verse from the first Epistle of  St. John, written on one of the walls of the ‘L'Hôpital des Anges’: ‘Let us love, for He loved us first.’ She knew that these words referred to God. But could it be different between humans? Could she keep her heart closed to a person who showed her and Jamie so much love and care? She could not and she did not want it either. If there ever was a day, Claire had begun to think of Fergus as a son, it was _that_ day. Jamie's soft whisper called her back to the present.  
  
         “Claire? Mo chridhe, what’s wrong?"

         “Nothing, Jamie, nothing. I just love you both. With _all_ my heart.”

         “I know, Claire. And with your wonderful hands.”

 

 ([”Speicherstadt Hamburg”](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Speicherstadt) by [Karsten Bergamnn](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fusers%2FKarstenBergmann-2857440%2F&t=YjZkYTlmN2ZmM2MyZTZhN2YwNDBhOTdiZjI3ZDk0MTYwYzJmZTIyMSxTU1JMRTRPdg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173620134095%2Fpec-4-carried-on-the-wings-of-an-eagle&m=1)) 

 

 

 **North Sea**  
**Monday, August 25, 1749, early evening**  
  
          His journey had gone well so far. Over the last days, Benjamin Smith had slowly become accustomed to the movements of the ship. After dinner with the captain, he had climbed up to the deck and leaned against the railing. The captain and the crew of the ship, which sailed under the flag of the Republic of the United Netherlands [1], left him alone most of the time. In particular, they did not ask any unpleasant questions as to why he wanted to leave Edinburgh under the cover of the night or why he was in such a hurry to get to Hamburg. Their welcomed ignorance was certainly helped by the special price Mr. Smith had paid for the trip - in gold.  
         He enjoyed the fresh salty air and began to stretch his arms and legs. If the wind maintained that speed, he would reach the first destination of his journey in time. He had a ten-day lead and had to take advantage of that lead. The success of his mission depended largely on it. Last night he had already feared that he would not succeed. Although the actual autumn storms were still pending, the ship had to drive through a bad weather front. The thunderstorm and the ever-rising waves had given him a great deal of angst, though he tried to conceal this from the captain and the sailors. After he had left the deck, he had clung to everything in his cabin that he could somehow grab. But at some point his stomach rebelled so badly that he had to vomit. Luckily he was standing right next to the washing basin. Later, the thunderstorm had subsided, but the waves were still restless. In his fear, Benjamin Smith had resorted to a tried and tested remedy. He had begun to hum a song that his mother had taught him:

  
  
  
Carried on the wings of an eagle  
over the roaring sea of time  
Carried on the wings of an eagle  
into eternity  
Over mountains and valleys and glades  
even higher to the heavenly height  
for strong are the wings that carry me  
the wings on which I stand   
  
And under the same wings  
how wonderful do I rest  
There is my place of refuge  
my firm and secure house  
The enemy may circle above me  
aim at me and spy as he will  
for strong are the wings that cover me  
and under those wings there is peace  
  
Yes, sheltered under the wings  
and kept on top of the wings  
there you find a blessed rest  
there you find a joyful ride  
there you find a firm assurance  
trough this changing pilgrimage  
for under those wings there is peace  
and on those wings there is strength [2]

  
  
         The song had not missed its desired effect. As in the stormy nights in which his mother had sung him to sleep with this tune, he calmed down gradually, and the storm and the waves did the same. The language was still alien to him, yet he had internalized the words for years. His mother had told him that it belonged to his father's favorite songs and every time she mentioned his father, a radiant smile had formed on her face that Benjamin would never forget.   
         His father. If his journey was going well and he completed his mission successfully, he would see his father again before the end of the next month. And he knew he would not only see him again, he would make him proud too. But was it that what he wanted? He did not know. Too little did he know about the man who was his father. Why did this song have a special meaning for him? What did his father associate with it? What did these lines really mean? But maybe that would all change. Obviously fate had determined that from then on they would spend a lot of time together. This future prospect sparked ambivalent feelings in him.    
         But before his thoughts could continue to become entangled in the difficult family circumstances he had been born into, he forced himself to concentrate fully on his task. If everything went according to plan he would arrive in Hamburg in five days, change the ship and then go down the river Elbe for another three days until he would reach Magdeburg. There he would meet with the commander of the fortress, who would forward his message to Potsdam via the secret royal messenger system. He could only hope that his message arrived there in time. He told himself that that was no longer his responsibility. Yet he could not silence his inner unrest, which was caused by his uncertainty about the outcome of this affair. He would much rather have asked the commander for a horse of his own, so that he could bring the message to Potsdam himself and thus ensure that it arrived there on time. But he knew that he had neither the authority, nor would a single rider be able to accomplish this task. Precisely for this reason, the secret royal courier network had been set up many years ago. It was a tightly knit system of royal couriers carrying messages entrusted to them from one station to another. These riders were specially trained and had excellent horses. Each station was about a day's ride away, and when the courier arrived at one station, another, with a rested horse, was there and ready to pick up the documents and carry them on. It was - as Ambassador von Klinggräff had repeatedly emphasized - a very reliable and effective system. Nevertheless, Benjamin Smith hated to leave tasks unfinished, which had been entrusted to him. Such situations always left a mixture of uncomfortable feelings in him. He found it difficult to put these feelings into words, but he felt helpless. And this helplessness seemed to be accompanied by a feeling that something was lacking. Both led to an inner restlessness, which he was very difficult to control. This led to more helplessness and with that, the whole vicious cycle began again. The fact that a failure this time could not only lead to a loss of money, land or power, but to the loss of three lives burdened him even more. The only solution was to focus on the things that mattered most in the respective situation.  
         He stretched again and took a deep breath. Then, resolutely, he left the deck and went to his cabin. He undressed and put out the light. Shortly thereafter, he fell into a restless sleep.

 

(”Pflaumen” by [cgonzalezandrade](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fanbau-pflaumen-organisch-2549275%2F&t=NDBlM2EwNzUyYmY1OWJiY2RkM2Q0NzIyZjk2YTZmYWU4NjgwZGI1YSxTU1JMRTRPdg%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F173620134095%2Fpec-4-carried-on-the-wings-of-an-eagle&m=1))

 

 **Quellheim** **  
** **Monday, August 25, 1749, nearly one hour later the same evening**

          Claire turned her attention back to the plum trees. She had already detailed plans for what she would do with this immense harvest. One part they would eat fresh, another part Jamie would take to the market in Teichheim for sale. A third part she would use to make damson puree. The plums, which were not particularly juicy, she would dry and the rest, especially from the yellow and the red fruits, she would preserve in alcohol. Harvesting and preserving the fruits would mean a lot of work and yet she was happy. Jamie had been right. Much had improved over the last five month. With the beginning of the harvest season in the garden, their menu had become more and more varied, which - she had to smile - was reflected also in the weight of Jamie and Fergus.  
          She looked over to the apple tree where Fergus sat on one of the benches, completely immersed in his book. In the course of the year he had grown quite a bit - physically, but also in his personality. The work at the farm was not only consuming a lot of time and strength, it also increased with each new purchase. Over the past few months, Claire has watched with delight as Fergus not only became enthusiastic about every new little project, but also took on more and more responsibility and diligently fulfilled his duties. It became increasingly obvious that he wanted to prove himself to Jamie as a _true_ son. Since the end of the harvest, he and Jamie spent a lot more time together and it became apparent that this was good for both of them. Jamie was pleased to pass on his knowledge and skills to the boy, and Fergus enjoyed to finally be taken seriously as _a man_. Claire tried to support him in his efforts. But sometimes Jamie's comments on the lad's behavior led to very funny situations.

         Today, two servants of farmer Rein had brought the two pigs that Jamie had picked and bought. He had assigned Fergus to herd them to the little meadow behind the stables. Together they had watched the boy fulfilling his task.

         "He does it well. Just look with how much patience he takes care of them," Claire had said. But Jamie had just grinned and whispered:  
  
         "Sassenach, he does that because he already sees them as sausage and ham _on his plate._ "  
  
         She had given him a light blow and shook her head with a smile. Then both had laughed aloud and Fergus, who had no clue about why they were laughing, turned to them with a serious look before turning his attention back to 'sausage' and 'ham' as Jamie called the two pigs henceforth.  
  
         As her gaze swept over the herb garden, her mind was meditating about the things that needed to be done there, Jamie had approached her. He had cleared his throat softly so as not to frighten her. Then he had put his arms around her waist and gently pulled her close.  
  
         "Good evening, Mr. Fraser," she whispered while melting into him.  
  
         "Good evening, Milady," he answered just as softly.  
  
         She felt his smile in her hair and put her hands over his arms.  
  
          "What do you think about, mo chridhe?"  
  
          "I've planed the work for this week. The rest of the fruit has to be harvested and we'll have a lot of work with it."  
  
          Instead of answering her, he began gently placing kisses down her neck.  
  
          "And what have you done, Mr. Fraser?" she asked with a certain ironic undertone in her voice.  
  
          "I looked for the animals and closed the gate, then made plans for the rest of the evening."  
  
          "And what are your plans for the rest of the evening, Mr. Fraser?"  
  
          "Well, first of all, I'd like to spend some more time with my family. I want to sit down with my wife and our bookworm, enjoying the mild weather, and then when it's dark, and hopefully our son is sleeping soundly, I intend to be close to my wonderful wife, as close as only I allowed to be."  
  
        "Really? Good to know that!"  
  
        "Is that ... a good plan, Mrs. Fraser?"  
  
        She turned into his embrace and nodded.  
  
        "This is a very good plan, Mr. Fraser. We should put it into action as soon as possible."

        "Je suis prest, _Milady_."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] See: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_Republic  
> [2] The original song is “Auf Adlers Flügeln getragen”. The text was written by Anna von Werthern-Viebahn (1884 - 1931) and set to music by Emil Janssen and Johann Courad around the year 1920. You can find the original text here: https://www.matthiaskuhnbadberleburg.de/index.php/k2-artikel/news-k2/item/43-auf-adlers-fluegeln-getragen - The (poor) translation above is mine.


	5. Light and shadow (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifth post for the Lallybroch Library Prompt Exchange Challenge PROMPT #16: “Good morning. I see the assassins have failed.” The posts will later become part of the “Without worry” series. - I apologize for being so late with this chapter, but my apartment was flooded due to a broken heating pipe in the ceiling. It has to be renovated, I have to move out and searching for a new apartment takes a lot of time and effort. But we are slowly approaching the assassination.

(”Morgen” by [Mhy](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Flandschaft-nebel-morgen-411712%2F&t=NmJkN2ZiODJlODg4ODQxNTU4Y2I4NWZkNTQxNWU2YTIyYThjNzg5OCxRYVg2WXdLNw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174324308320%2Fpec-5-light-and-shadow-1))

 

 **Quellheim  
****Tuesday, August 26, 1749, early morning  
**  

         Outside, the sun was just rising as Jamie joined Claire in the kitchen. Only a few candles were burning on the worktable near the stove. They immersed his wife in a warm, shimmering light while she was preparing breakfast. He loved the sight, and he loved the morning silence that filled the house before everyday life began. Slowly he approached her from behind, put both arms carefully around her waist and buried his face in her curls. 

         "Good morning, my beautiful wife.“  
  
         Claire put her hands on his arms and turned her head to him whispering back:  
  
         "Good morning.”  
  
         "Thank you _so much_ , mo nighean donn.“

         She looked at him questioningly.  
  
         "For this wonderful night,” Jamie answered with a smile.  

         He kissed her and while he did, she turned completely into his embrace. As they parted some moments later, she put her head against his chest and her arms around his body. They stayed that way for a while, just enjoying each others warm presence.

* * *

         It had been about one o'clock in the night. Jamie had got up cautiously. He had lit a candle and put on his shirt. Then he quietly went down to the kitchen to get a cup of water. When he came back up to their bedchamber, Claire stood in her shift at the open window. 

         "Did I wake you, mo nighean donn?“ he asked as he stepped in front of her and gently pulled her in his arms.  
  
         "No,” she whispered, melting into his embrace.  
  
         He kissed her forehead and sighed.  
  
         "Jamie, what’s on your mind?“ she asked some moments later.  
  
         "I’m happy, Claire, very, very happy." 

         "Is there any _special_ reason for your happiness?" 

         She looked at him, a bright smile visible on her face. With her slender fingers she gently went over his cheeks. Jamie loved this touch, _the touch of his wife_. Gently, almost featherily, her wonderful hands could glide over his face, but just a moment later the same fragile looking fingers could draw him to her with the utmost passion. 

         He let himself fall into her wonderful touch and her fingers slowly slid from his cheeks to the back of his head and through his thick, tight hair. Claire turned her face and, as he had hoped, pulled him close. When his lips met hers, she already had opened her mouth invitingly for him. Their tongues met with force, and it seemed as if a fight had broke out about which of them wanted to please the other one more. The ferventness of their kiss reawakened the passion that they had given themselves to with an immense amount of joy just two hours ago. They parted to take a breath and leaned their foreheads together. 

         "Claire,” he said with a hoarse voice, “in June of this year, we were married for six years. In these six years we have experienced so much, we have been separated for two years … but now we have finally found peace. A place to rest. A place where we can build a future together. _That_ makes me happy. I have never wished for more than that. I need no title, I need no riches. All I want is to live with you in peace. To care and provide for my wife, my family, with my own hands, with my own work." 

         She looked into his eyes and before he could say another word, she kissed him again. Jamie did not want to do anything but carry her to their bed to lose himself in her kisses and finally in herself. But there was something he wanted to tell her, something that _needed_ to be told. He had been carrying it with him for several days, and now the moment had come to reveal this part of his heart to her. He slowly broke away and with the most lovingly look he said:

         "There is something else that makes me infinitely happy, Sorcha. We both know that … the beginning of our marriage … was a bit rough, so to say. But when love took over, we both knew that not only our bodies became one. Our souls touched each other too. We went trough a lot of trouble and … sometimes our souls drifted apart. Especially during … our time in Paris. But we always found each other again. And now … since we are here … the last five months … I have the feeling, that … that our souls have become more connected, more united then ever before.”

         Jamie smiled and with his thumbs he gently caressed her cheeks. 

         "Did you notice that we argue much less than before?“ 

         A mischievous smile became visible on Claire’s face. 

         "Do I have finally become an obedient passive housewife? Is it that what pleases my master?” she asked with an unmistakable tone of irony.

         He answered her with the same mischievous smile. 

         "I would not choose the words passive or obedient if I were to describe what you did to me in our bed only two hours ago. But I am grateful that we finally have the time to talk about everything we’ve experienced, everything that left its marks on our lives. Do you remember what we promised each other about secrets and lies?“

         “How could I ever forget?” she whispered, her voice slightly trembling.

         “Do you think that there are still _many_ secrets between us?”

         “I do not know how many secrets _you_ still hide from me, but the number of _my_ secrets has steadily diminished in recent months,” Claire answered without taking her eyes from him. 

         Jamie saw her smile, but in her eyes he could see the deep seriousness of her words.  
  
         “Claire, I trust you with my whole life. Who would ever do for me, what you have done for me in these short six years? No, there is nothing that I knowingly or deliberately hide from you, my love”

        When their mouths met again, no one could have said who had first pulled whom to each other. But this time their kiss was full of tenderness. Only reluctantly they parted to take a breath. Then they did not spoke another word, but let their souls and bodies continue the conversation.

* * *

 

         Neither of them knew how long they had stood together, rethinking the events of the night, when Claire said:

         “I could stay that way until the end of days.”

         "No, you couldn’t, _maman_ ,“ a voice from nowhere suddenly declared, “that would be irresponsible and at the latest when the animals scream for food, you would go to feed them.”

         “Who disturbs his father …”

         “ … at the most important task of the day? Your humble, hard-working and most loyal son, _mon père_.”

         Fergus, who had come down the stairs as he spoke, was now standing in front of them and bowed gallantly. They all had to laugh out loud. Claire pulled him close and hugged him.

         "I think,“ she said, "you worry less about the food of the cattle than about your breakfast, or am I wrong?”

         Fergus just rolled his eyes. But before a discussion could arise, Jamie grabbed him by the left arm.

         "Come with me, _son_ , we’re going to feed the animals. We leave _maman_ alone so she can prepare _our_ breakfast.“  
  
          Claire watched Jamie and Fergus as they left the house. Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. She took the apron and wiped them off. Leaning against the table for a moment, she closed her eyes. A sigh sprang from her mouth, which came from the depths of her soul. How much she loved her two men. How much she loved to care for them. Just the thought of losing one of them caused an infinite pain in her chest. She took another deep breath, then rose again. She did not have to worry, they were save. Finally, all three of them were save.

(”Blockhaus ‘Neptunus’ im Hamburger Binnenhafen” by the German painter Ludwig Mecklenburg, [via Wikimedia Commons](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fcommons.wikimedia.org%2Fwiki%2FFile%3AHamburg.Binnenhafen.Blockhaus.Louis_Mecklenburg.jpg&t=OTBlM2RlNDVlNjlmMGUxYTkzOWY5MGNlYTEwM2VhN2NjMjg4NzY1OCxRYVg2WXdLNw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174324308320%2Fpec-5-light-and-shadow-1))

 

**Hamburg  
Saturday, August 30, 1749, early evening**

          Benjamin Smith had eagerly awaited this moment. Finally his ship had docked in Hamburg [1]. Although it was already early evening, there was still a lot of activity at the piers and in the squares. Passengers went ashore or aboard their ships to take them to foreign locations. Goods were offered and sold. Elsewhere, ships were loaded or unloaded. The most different smells hit him with force. Countless species of freshly caught fish, spices from all over the world, several kinds of wood and the salty air were mixed with the the cries of seagulls circling in the evening sun. Standing at the railing and waiting for the moment to leave the ship, he wondered if this place would ever know a moment of rest. Hopefully the next stage of his journey would be just as good as the first one. Then he saw how two sailors threw the ropes of the rope bridge over to the pier. There they were caught by dockers and moored. Now he was able to leave the ship. The two sailors took the leather bags that had stood beside Smith and went ashore behind him. As he was entering the pier, a four-horse carriage pulled up and stopped short of him. A soldier sitting on the box beside the coachman jumped down and hurried toward him. He saluted and asked:

          "Mr. Benjamin von Plochnow?”  
  
          Benjamin Smith nodded.  
  
          “Lieutenant Friedrich Bonath. I am here on behalf of His Excellency, Ambassador Destinon [2], and welcome you to Hamburg. I have been ordered to take you to the Low Harbor. The ship, on which you will continue your journey is already waiting for you.”

          “Thank you, Lieutenant!”  
  
          The coachman had already taken the bags from the sailors and stowed them on to the carriage. Bonath opened the carriage door for von Plochnow. After he had boarded, Bonath stepped in and sat down across of him. The carriage started to drive.  
  
          “I hope you have had a good trip so far?”

          “Yes, thank you. Please, go on.” 

          Smith, now called by the surname of his father, nodded. 

          “We arranged everything as it was ordered from Potsdam. The ship is not very big, but you will have your own cabin and eat with the captain. The passage has already been paid and the captain has been ordered not to stop before you reach Magdeburg [3]. For him and the crew, you are a Prussian merchant who is expected to go to Berlin for urgent business. When you land at Magdeburg, the Commander will send you a carriage to take you to the citadel [4]. The Governor of the Citadel is Field Marshal Leopold II, Prince of Anhalt-Dessau [5]. He is currently not in Magdeburg because of court issues, so the Commander, Lieutenant-General von Bonin [6] was commissioned to deal with the matter.”

          This information was not new to von Plochnow. Ambassador von Klinggräff had already indicated this in his last message to him. But he did not say anything, just nodded again and hoped to silence the Lieutenant. He did not want to spend the short stay he had here with meaningless talk, but rather catch a glimpse of the city, which had impressed him irresistibly on his last visit.  
          The last time he visited his father, he had also landed in Hamburg and his father had taken the time to show it to him the. Benjamin still fed from this special memory. His father had led him through the port facilities and introduced him to Prussian merchants who had their offices there. Together they visited the Jungfernstieg boulevard [7] and the opera at the Gänsemarkt [8]. On Sunday, they attended the service in the principal church St. Jacobi [9], where they sang to the sounds of the organ, which had been completed by Arp Schnitger [10] himself.  
          They had taken lunch and dinner outside their accommodation and his father took advantage of these opportunities to introduce him to some wealthy and influential Prussian and Hamburg merchants and their families. Prussia had established diplomatic ties with Hamburg in 1653 and his father had used all his connections to introduce him to the Prussian Ambassador over lunch. It was well known that Johann Destinon was not only a particularly close confidant of the father of the present Prussian King, but that he also enjoyed the complete confidence of the Friedrich II [11]. If somebody could win the goodwill of the Ambassador, to that person the doors in Berlin, and even better in Potsdam, would open up. Benjamin was certain that he owed the commission he was carrying on to the intercession of the two Ambassadors, Mr. von Klinggräff and Mr. Destinon.  
          But like all other Hanseatic cities, Hamburg had also a long trading tradition with the English Kingdom. Since the 13th century, there was a central Hanseatic trading office in London, the so-called ‘Stahlhof’ [12] and in the 16th century, the ‘Merchant Adventurers’ company settled in the ‘English Court’ in Hamburg [13]. As a result, numerous fruitful and close economic, political and intellectual connections between Hamburg and London had emerged. Despite the wars and changes of the last century, some of these connections still existed and Benjamin’s father had insisted on making his son known at least to some of the people who knew how to use those connections. The young man remembered well that his father had referred to these men as _‘pepper sacks’_. Wealthy Hamburg merchants were called by that name, because the wealth of some of them was based on the trade in spices from overseas, for which the term ‘pepper’ was commonly used in the Middle Ages. The term 'pepper sack’ was sometimes also used disparagingly if one wanted to mark rich, ruthless people who were only concerned with money and power. In particular, the whole Hamburg upper class was called by that name. But his father had also told him that behind this outer facade of power and wealth there were occasionally people with whom one could establish lifelong friendships. People one could trust. Yes, the Hanseatic people [14] were proud people. They were proud of their status as a Free and Hanseatic city, one of the oldest citizen republics in Europe if not in the entire world. They were proud of what they had built up for generations. And of course they were proud of their reputation. At home and abroad, they were considered highly cultured people with commercial boldness, solidity, reliability (“a handshake is enough”), restraint and self-irony. It was not easy to win their friendship and trust. But if they were made friends, they would be friends forever. Deep in though, he shook his head slightly. He had spent relatively little time with his father throughout his life. But every time they were together, his father had done everything to promote him in every conceivable way. It was as if he had known that one day his son’s path would lead permanently to his _fatherland_.  
     
          He was still deep in thoughts when his carriage reached its destination. The coachman opened the door and let the two men out. At the pier a sailing ship docked, which was much smaller than the one with which he had come to Hamburg. But for a kind of river boat it still had an impressive size. While the coachman brought the luggage to the ship, Bonath said goodbye to von Plochnow.

          “You will now sail down the river for a while, until it gets dark and you have to anchor. At dawn tomorrow, you will continue your journey. As the ship does not carry any cargo, it will move faster than usual. So you should be at Magdeburg in nearly three days. Good luck to you!”  
  
          “Thank you very much, Lieutenant! My sincere thanks and greetings to His Excellency the Ambassador!”  
  
          “Very well Mr. von Plochnow!”  
  
          “Goodbye!”  
  
          Lieutenant Bonath saluted one last time, then von Plochnow boarded the sailing ship over a small jetty. On board, he was greeted by a tall and stocky man with a gray beard and a balding head, who introduced himself as Captain Udtke. He escorted von Plochnow to his cabin, where his luggage was already waiting for him. Left alone, he took off his hat and his coat. Then he lay down on the bed set in the wall and stretched his legs and arms. So far his journey had gone well. He could only hope that there would be no unforeseen complications at this stage either. As he stretched once more, he heard the loud voices of the sailors and noticed that the ship was moving.

  
  
(”Edinburgh” by  [Walkerssk](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fpixabay.com%2Fde%2Fedinburgh-highlands-schottland-berg-1131619%2F&t=ODU3NWYyNjcxMDcyMTNmYzg4ZmYyNmYxYzg5YWQ3YWIxZjUyZTIxNyxRYVg2WXdLNw%3D%3D&b=t%3ALWrYuKJ7y7qBw1y37At9Pw&p=https%3A%2F%2Funderthewingsofthblackeagle.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F174324308320%2Fpec-5-light-and-shadow-1) )

**Edinburgh  
Sunday, August 31, 1749, 9 am**

          He had met the three soldiers in the Colonel’s office. They were presented to him as Francis Crenshaw, Richard Lennox and Taran MacQuarrie.  
          A coach had brought them to the harbor, where they boarded an English merchant ship that would take them to Hamburg. Their passage had already been paid and the captain had been told that they were four English merchant travelers who had to travel to the Hanseatic city for talks with trading partners. Crenshaw and Lennox had been assigned a cabin together, he had to share a second cabin with MacQuarrie. As soon as he had stowed his bag there, he left the cabin and went to the deck. Unable to calm down in MacQuarrie’s presence, he  stepped to the railing, looked out to the sea, and took a deep breath. The longer he looked, the more the cries of the sea gulls and the calls of the sailors who were preparing the ship to leave the harbor fell silent. Finally he was able to let this thoughts come to the surface.  
          The three men were all English soldiers, and yet he did not really trust them. Would he be successful in commanding these three figures, who might as well have been found as criminals in an English prison? He did not know. But he had to try it. As hard as it was for him, it was about his honor as an officer and the future of his family. In recent days he had again and again wondered how he could solve this Gordian knot. He hated the idea of capturing James Fraser and his family and even more he hated the thought of seeing him on the gallows of the Tower of London. He knew that this man would never get a fair trial before an English court. The verdict had already been spoken by the Duke of Cumberland, and all that still happened was the execution of this order. But the sword of the Duke of Cumberland floated over his own head too and he knew what this butcher was capable of. If he continued to annoy this man, it could not only cost him his position, it could also endanger his whole family. And was not Fraser himself responsible for his fate? If he had not fled, he would have been free in a few years. So all of this was Fraser’s own fault. He tried to persuade himself with this thought, tried to calm his own conscience and even more of his own heart. But without success.  
          Then the bells of the churches of Edinburgh sounded to invite the faithful to the Sunday service. If he had been a man of faith, he could have prayed and sought comfort and help from God. Fraser was such a man. That he knew without a doubt. But he himself? He himself had long since given up the thought that there might be a God. This thought had disturbed his conscience too much. He had to solve his problem all by himself. And he did not have much time left for that. In ten days they would arrive in Hamburg and in another ten days they would arrive at their destination. Then they should take Fraser captive and bring them back to England as soon as possible. He had to use each of these days to find a solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamburg  
> [2] Johann Destinon was the Prussian Ambassador to Hamburg from 1724 until his death in 1752  
> [3] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magdeburg  
> [4] Magdeburg was the largest and most important fortress of Prussia in the west of the kingdom. The citadel was the center of the fortress and seat of the governor and the commander of the fortress.  
> [5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leopold_II,_Prince_of_Anhalt-Dessau  
> [6] (German only) https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anselm_Christoph_von_Bonin  
> [7] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jungfernstieg  
> [8] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%A4nsemarkt  
> [9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._James%27_Church,_Hamburg  
> [10] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arp_Schnitger  
> [11] This follows from the obtained correspondence between between Johann Destinon and Friedrich Wilhelm I.; see “Friedrich der Grosse: Eine Lebensgeschichte, Band 2″ von Johann David Erdmann Preuss, Berlin 1833.  
> [12] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steelyard  
> [13] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Company_of_Merchant_Adventurers_of_London  
> [14] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanseaten_(class)

**Author's Note:**

> [1] Latin for “The die is cast”. It is a Latin phrase attributed by Suetonius (as iacta alea est [ˈjakta ˈaːlea est]) to Julius Caesar on January 10, 49 B.C. as he led his army across the Rubicon river in Northern Italy. With this step, he entered Italy at the head of his army in defiance of the Senate and began his long civil war against Pompey and the Optimates. The phrase, either in the original Latin or in translation, is used in many languages to indicate that events have passed a point of no return. (Wikipedia)


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